


Hot and Sticky

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (like come on guys), Alternate Universe - Final Fantasy XV Fusion, Flirting, Flustered Lance (Voltron), Lance as Prompto, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Battle, Pre-Relationship, Shiro as Gladiolus, everybody's sweaty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: The last thing Lance is expecting when he puts his gun away is to hear Shiro's proud tone when he tells him he did a good job just then.The hand stroking through his hair, however, is completely off the table of things he thought would be happening.---Or;Shiro tries to flirt with Lance via praises and it seems to work a little too well.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Achrya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/gifts).



> god does that title make this sound like porn
> 
> anyway  
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Here's something to do with sand and heat rather than cold and snow. Merry Christmas to Achrya ESPECIALLY, however. This gift is specifically to her. I don't really have just one reason, but many, many of them, but they all boil down to a simple: you're such a great friend. You're such a great writer. You're such a great motivator and writing is so much more fun and worth it when you're helping me with it.
> 
> It's a thank you. It's a gift. It's whatever fits the moment. Merry Christmas.
> 
> this au is.... something I love dearly. oh so dearly. dear god so dearly. buuuuut fuck, I wouldn't be able to do a whole lot with it so I'm shoving it onto achrya instead. woo.  
> this part is inspired by random thoughts after gameplay and [this particular audio clip](http://glompto.tumblr.com/post/154370540583/ataraxetta-youve-come-a-long-way-prompto).
> 
> [Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIet1c13Qnc). We all know by now that what I listen to when I wrote and what fits the story doesn't fit, but if you wanna hear what i heard while writing, here you go.

                “Look at you,” mumbles a voice just over his shoulder. Lance turns around to answer just as Shiro presses a hand into his hair, ruffling it. In a sudden bout of shyness unfamiliar to him, Lance tries to shrink away, only to freeze at Shiro’s continuing, oblivious words, “You’ve really come a long way, Lance.”

 

                Though it’s not that loud anymore, seeing as the battle is finished and everyone’s mostly just catching their breath now, Shiro’s voice is quite soft and low, practically a whisper. “I noticed you took that last one down all on your own,” he adds, staring down at Lance, who’s too shocked, busy absorbing the random bout of praise to say anything in reply. Shiro’s gaze is oddly both gentle as well as focused, eyes boring into Lance’s own so intense that he can’t even glance away or blink for a split second too long. “Very good job.”

 

                He knows he’s flushing at this; at the words, at the fact that it’s _Shiro_ that’s speaking – _murmuring_ – them, at the hand that’s still resting on top of his head, even if the ruffles have slowed to occasional brush-throughs, at it all. He can’t imagine how he looks, red-faced, in awe at just a handful of words on the outcome of their battle, probably slick to the touch in sweat. The image in his head is enough to knock him out of it, and he ducks away with a chuckle that’s too awkward, too embarrassed to even begin to contain his usual amount of bravado. Swatting at Shiro’s hand, he desperately tries to come up with something to say and a way to keep his pitch in check, but all that comes out is a weak, “Dude, no, you’re all sweaty.”

 

                It isn’t much of an excuse, not really, because, well, they’re all sweaty. They’ve all been sweaty from the fighting that they’ve been doing since they got here and they’re pretty much used to it by now, but maybe Lance can still pull off the _I don’t want someone else’s wet fingers on my head_ even if it would be a flat out _lie_. It’s still not one that anyone has any evidence against, however, so at least he has that going for him.

 

                Of course, Shiro just laughs at his response and drops his arm, only to lift his other one, wiggling his metallic fingers into the air. “This one’s not.”

 

                And well, maybe that’s true, but when it comes to comb through his hair again, he grabs it. He kind of has this slightly absurd fear that if it were to actually make contact against his scalp, he would jerk, likely getting a couple hairs caught in the wiring or something.

 

                (His fear has nothing to do with the fact that he’s had too many thoughts of that same hand pulling said hair up and tugging, not at all, and it’s definitely not that he’s too scared he’d probably moan a little to go along with trying to pull away in time. His fear is strictly relating to the fact that, knowing his own goddamn luck, he’d get locks stuck between the metal plates and yanked out. So… his _or something_ covers just about anything else he could also possibly be dreading.)

 

                To not be caught just… holding Shiro’s hand and flat out staring at him, he pulls Shiro’s hand instead to press over his forehead, sighing at the chill that spreads against his skin from the touch. Shiro’s prosthetic is usually pretty close to the temperature of the average person’s, the same level that the rest of Shiro’s body is at, but during battle or exercise or anything that could heat up the rest of him, it remains constant, warming slowly if the rest of his body retains its elevated level until he falls back to his own usual. It’s pretty cool engineering – Lance finds it fascinating most of the time, but right now the best part of it is that it’s colder than his own temperature, so it feels nice pressed against him.

 

                When he sighs in content, the edges of Shiro’s lips quirk up and he splays his fingers out to give him more relief from his own warmth.  He lets out another happy noise as he drags Shiro’s palm down the side of his face to the nape of his neck, turning it over since the back of his hand is now the colder side. He catches his eyes fluttering shut, realizes that he’s mouth has started to drop open in bliss, and immediately scrambles to collect himself, only to notice that Shiro has been staring down at him in amusement. If he thought the heat was slowly leaving his face before, it merely returns in full force just to mortify him further.

 

                As fast as he can (without pulling out hairs, that is), he removes Shiro’s hand from his neck, eyes skittering away from Shiro’s gaze in open shock at his own ability to let himself get so shamelessly lost in his friend’s touch. “Thanks,” he croaks, brain going all over the place as it tries to flip between the fact that he’s holding hands with Shiro, and how, since he’s not looking at said man’s face anymore, he’s instead tracing his way down his neck and watching the way droplets of sweat slide down the outlines of the muscles of his torso.

 

                He tears his gaze away and hopes his swallow wasn’t quite as audible as his head is hysterically screaming at him that it is. With a couple unnecessary pats to the back of it, Lance drops Shiro’s hand. “Yep. Not sweaty.” He’s looking everywhere but at the eyes that are probably laughing at his weird behavior the way those lips (nope, not thinking about those, Lance don’t go down that path) thankfully are not.

 

                Shiro doesn’t comment on it, for which Lance is grateful about.

 

                Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, he clears his throat and spits out a strained, “I’m just… gonna… go over there.” There’s no more hope for him anyway, no point in trying to reclaim his tattered dignity as it is, so he doesn’t even try to make his exit any less clumsy and stilted. He’s just going to put a few feet and the rest of the other party members between them and try to keep his panicking internal. Doesn’t seem to hard.

 

                “I don’t think it’s going to be any less hot over there, Lance,” Shiro points out, tease obvious in his tone – which is just as quiet and sweet like his words before, _fuck_ – but Lance waves him off, already stepping back. He hears Shiro laugh behind him as he, too, shifts in the sand and wow, now even his goddamn _ears_ are burning. Wonderful.

 

                “Yeah.” Shiro might not even be listening now, because he’s moving closer to the others to see the map that they’re trying to sort out, but Lance still mumbles back, “Probably not.” He’ll still cause himself the same amount of grief just _thinking_ about Shiro, so some steps away won’t be helping much in that sense. It’s mostly just to keep those big, dark eyes off him.

 

                In the end, it doesn’t work much. He can still feel them on the back of his neck, but if he grits his teeth around a growing, uncontrollable smile and straightens his back just right from where he’s sitting, buffing his gun, he can be sure that they don’t see the way their presence still colors him.

**Author's Note:**

> [Achrya's tumblr](http://achryathesecond.tumblr.com/). // [my reblog one (lots of ff/promptio atm esp)](http://glompto.tumblr.com/) // [my vld and mostly shance blog](http://cryingovershance.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you wanna reblog and/or like this fic on tumblr, you can do so [here](http://cryingovershance.tumblr.com/post/154927525059/since-its-christmas-and-the-time-for-giving-i)!
> 
> Have a great Sunday! Hope the year ends well for you and thanks for reading!!


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